


The Day of the Meeting

by she_is_rysn



Series: A Balcony in Urithiru [4]
Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Adolin invents baseball, Book 03: Oathbringer Spoilers, F/F, F/M, Nobody actually makes out in this part, Pretty sure bi Shallan is canon now, Relationships are so hard, making out has consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-20 05:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_is_rysn/pseuds/she_is_rysn
Summary: Plans go into motion for the mission to Kholinar, and everything's just really complicated now because Kaladin and Shallan made out.Secret subplot in Part 2 of Oathbringer (this part starts around Chapter 39)





	1. Chouta At Its Best

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! Hope you're good!
> 
> Picking up where we left off, a little while before the meeting covered in Chapter 39 of Oathbringer. Here's a summary of the first 3 parts if you're just joining or if you (understandably) can't remember what you read a year ago:
> 
> Shallan and Kaladin met up on a secret balcony one night, and things got kind of intense. They realized that they could take Stormlight from each other by kissing. Without knowing how, Shallan created a lightweaving of Hearthstone and of Tien, which Kaladin took pretty hard. They spent the rest of the night kneeling on the ground together with their heads pressed together.
> 
> The next day, Kaladin took Bridge 4 to the Shattered Plains, and Kaladin got the assignment from Elhokar to take back Kholinar. Shallan busied herself with Palona so as not to run into Adolin. 
> 
> That night, they met up again with every intention of putting on the brakes, and it seemed like that was going to work out. They agreed that they needed to tell Dalinar and Jasnah about the Stormlight swapping property, and that it was a priority to take care of Adolin and his feelings, even though they didn't exactly determine how that was going to happen. 
> 
> But then, seized with panic that it all would be taken away from him, Kaladin grabbed Shallan and flew really high up into the sky, because he couldn't think of anything else to do. From way up there, Shallan reassured him, then they made out a bunch in the sky. Then Kaladin noticed that someone was watching them from the roof of Urithiru.
> 
> Dalinar, who had gone to the roof of Urithiru to clear his head, was surprised to see Kaladin and Shallan. They explained to him what the deal was and then Kaladin kissed him to demonstrate. Dalinar instructed them to keep quiet but Shallan insisted on telling Jasnah. Dalinar agreed, then sent them off.
> 
> [whoops i changed tenses here sorry, not fixing]
> 
> After a quick hang on the balcony, Shallan and Kaladin visit Jasnah in her rooms and Shallan kisses Jasnah in order to demonstrate. Jasnah is annoyed. Shallan is dazed. They get the same instructions not to tell anyone about it and find out from Jasnah about the meeting that they're all supposed to be at later.
> 
> Shallan and Kaladin split off to go to their respective homes before the meeting.
> 
> Meanwhile, Jasnah visits Dalinar and Navani in their room and the three of them talk about what they learned. Then they leave for the meeting.
> 
> And that's where we'll pick up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bridge 4 is very happy for Kaladin, even if they're not positive what's going on.

“It’s fresh, gancho, this is chouta at its best,” beamed Lopen, pressing the Herdazian delicacy into Kaladin’s hand. “After a long night, this is just what a man needs to get his strength back up,” he whispered conspiratorially, adding a wink. 

Kaladin accepted the street food, attempting a laugh and unconcerned shake of the head. It was time to lie. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lopen,” he protested weakly. 

“Oh yeah, me either. But I do know that my friend Kaladin in his right mind would not take a chouta from me, because of his limited palate and imagination. And look at what you hold in your hand.”

Kaladin looked down at the food he was holding, all of a sudden noticing its strong aroma and warm, squishy casing. Suppressing a gag, he handed it back to Lopen.

“Gon, you weren’t on duty last night. You haven’t been in barracks. You haven’t been at the taverns or the markets. I know of only 3 reasons a man likes to get away when everyone else is sleeping, but -” 

“Three?”

“Yeah, three. But, seeing as your powers aren’t a secret anymore and you’re too honest to do crimes, most of us are betting there is... someone special. We’re happy for you, gancho. Surprised? Also yes! But happy for you.”

At this, Kaladin noticed that Lopen’s confidential tone had been loud enough for the full barracks’ ears, and they were all definitely listening. He caught Drehy’s eye, and the bridgeman met him with a gesture somewhere between a smile and a salute. 

Syl burst out laughing, and zipped around the room as a windspren.

******

“You know we love you gon,” continued Lopen, “but we can only love you in so many ways, if you know what I mean. Skar says he can pick up your rounds this morning if you want to see whether your bed remembers you.” 

The captain opened and closed his mouth a few times, his face turning deeper and deeper shades of red the more he realized that they had an audience. He looked embarrassed and surprised, but Lopen didn’t see why he should. Bridge Four had forged itself into a family, and families looked after their own. It was actually _ good _ to know that Kaladin was capable of seeking out comfort this way. Nobody should be alone like that, bearing such a burden. Everyone just hoped that whoever she - or he - was, they were doing right by their captain, or there would be storms to pay. 

“I can - Skar doesn’t - I’m fine, Lopen,” Kaladin stammered, “there’s a meeting this morning that I need to attend. It wouldn’t work to send along anyone else. The Desolations are here, you know, we can’t afford--” 

Kaladin broke off sharply. Before ducking into his room, he gave a jerky shrug, some kind of grimace on his face that must have been meant as a smirk.

“Rumors would be bad right now though, Lopen. For my reputation, that is. I don’t want nosy lighteyes in my business. Of course I don’t, I never want that, but especially now, it’s important.” 

Desperation flashed in his eyes. 

“Please, please help keep this a secret. Can I count on you?” 

What a terrible liar this young man was. He was clearly attempting some kind of swaggering air, like a bad impression of Adolin Kholin, but the Lopen would not have paid for this performance with a dun chip. There was a tone of helplessness in Kaladin’s voice, a confusion that sat poorly on his usually confident shoulders. Clearly, Kaladin Stormblessed could not even enjoy some romance without many complications. 

“You can always count on me, gon. And if you’ll accept some romantic advice from an expert? On your next date, maybe don’t take your friend flying in the middle of the sky where you can be seen by many. I will take care of it, though, no fear.” He held out the chouta once again, closing Kaladin’s fingers around the meal with a gentle pat on the hand. “My reputation can hold many more rumors than yours.”


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone goes to the meeting and pretends that nothing happened that morning.

POVS: Dalinar, Jasnah, Kaladin, Navani

Navani was surprised at the way her daughter spoke to Shallan at the start of the meeting. From a security standpoint, it did make absolute sense to have a qualified member of the group take notes, rather than someone from the outside. But there was something in Jasnah’s voice, a tinge of acid, that told Navani this was retribution for the morning she had endured at the hands of Davar and the Windrunner. There was no way _ not _to perceive the move as a dressing-down. 

And she tried not to read into the fact that her daughter and her ward had also spent a portion of that morning with their lips touching. Upon further reflection, Navani was beginning to draw the conclusion that this new discovery _ was _ a tad salacious, after all.

The group gave a good show of pretending, purely for the benefit of Renarin, that absolutely nothing odd had transpired among them that morning. Not that there weren’t pressing, world-shifting matters to discuss, but Navani still found herself riveted when the discussion turned to who ought to go on the Kholinar mission. Though it was the kind of intrigue she generally didn’t indulge in, she chose to quietly observe as her husband, her daughter, the bridgeman and the girl danced around one another. It really was fascinating.

******

Dalinar surprised himself by suggesting that Adolin join Kaladin and Elhokar on their mission to Kholinar. While recommending otherwise would have been an obvious attempt to keep his son and the bridgeman separate, it would force the young people to come to some kind of reconciliation in a matter of weeks. In the meantime, he would have to trust the two young men not to gore each other like rutting whitespines.

So it was also a little surprising, and not a little worrisome, to hear the bridgeman recommend that he and Adolin take the trip together, just the two of them. Had it been anyone but the bridgeman’s idea, Dalinar would be suspicious of the motive, but Kaladin was literally Honor-bound. He could be trusted. Of course, there were other, more important reasons for insisting that Elhokar remain part of the detail, but Dalinar couldn’t help but feel grateful for a built-in chaperone, if they were to make this journey together. 

Dalinar wished, just for a moment, that he had stayed in bed last night, lulled by the sound of Navani’s pen scratching against paper and the soft tap of her safehand on the desk. He knew too well the aching, hollow feeling of spending _ years _ fighting beside the man married to your only love. He couldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone his own son. Or the bridgeman, for that matter. Kelek send they would live long enough to get over it. Not that he had.

Dalinar found himself inordinately grateful to Jasnah for calling a break. He needed a drink.

******

“I’ll do what is right, regardless of my feelings, sir. And...I might be beyond those feelings anyway, now.”

The bridgeman’s words were spoken in reference to his history with Elhokar, but a tense silence followed. Shallan’s eyes shot up from her sketchpad, which everyone - even Renarin, curiously - seemed to notice, because they had all looked over to see how she would react. 

“This is too small,” Jasnah found herself blurting out, both because it was true and because she was appalled that the conversation seemed to be contorting into some weird metaphor for the romantic entanglement between the Windrunner and her ward. 

Something about this dalliance made Jasnah feel wicked and petty. The girl had grown daring in her absence, which was both a natural result of coming into her powers and incredibly, incredibly annoying. And anyway, they were dealing with evil _ immortal spren _. It was insulting to posit that anything could take precedence over dealing with that threat, never mind some emotions run rampant between two teenagers.

While it would be torture to hone Shallan into the Radiant they needed, especially given the complications with Adolin, Jasnah determined that it was also necessary. That meant reminding Shallan of the responsibilities of her wardship, and guiding her towards wiser choices. The girl seemed to take every chance to mix herself up in bad business, but she would keep working at it. Jasnah was never one to shrink from duty, even when it made her want to impale herself on her own hairspike. 

On the other hand, she was starting to appreciate qualities of the bridgeman that were not readily apparent earlier in the morning. Clearly a respected and disciplined leader, the Windrunner also exhibited a sense of justice and moral strength that was refreshing to see in an Alethi gathering. Despite an obvious lack of tactical knowledge and a tendency toward sentimentality, it was plain that no one would buy this man’s loyalty, or weaken his convictions with promotions and promises. 

And storms, was the young bridgeman easy to bait. He flustered faster than he could fly, which Jasnah found she enjoyed. What she did not enjoy was the complete lack of minutes for the first half of this meeting. 

******

“I’ll do what is right, regardless of my feelings, sir. And...I might be beyond those feelings anyway, now.”

Kaladin felt Shallan’s eyes suddenly on him. He didn’t mean _ those _feelings. Did he? Why had he said it that way?

Storms, WHY did he need Dalinar’s approval so badly? Around the highprince, Kaladin felt the ghost of what he had felt around his own father - the need for and expectation of approval, the desire to protect him, to prove that he was strong and capable. It was an odd feeling to see Dalinar again, smooth-cheeked in a fresh uniform, and Kaladin felt almost grateful to Jasnah for baiting him with her genocidal rhetoric over the course of the meeting. Snapping at her was a distraction both from the sight of Shallan and from the recollection of his early morning encounter with the highprince. Kaladin’s thoughts returned to the kiss with Dalinar more than he wanted to admit, along with a feeling of...what, exactly? Storms, these past few days had been more disorienting than the chasms themselves. 

It felt like being an actor in a terrible play. Here he was, steps away from Shallan, Dalinar and Jasnah, all jointly pretending that absolutely nothing had transpired between them mere hours earlier, all for the benefit of Renarin Kholin. And, probably, themselves. 

Alethi society was constantly roiling with scandal under its courtly exterior - deception, insults disguised as flattery, betrayals played off as politics. All that lighteyes nonsense had always infuriated him, and for the first time, Kaladin himself was part of that drama. Not only did it feel hypocritical and bad, it was exhausting. 

There were other, bigger problems to tackle just now -- several in fact. Soon he would leave for Kholinar, _ with _storming Adolin, and who knows if any of them would return? The Desolations were here - that is literally what they had all met this morning to discuss. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - keep spending all his energy to keep up a charade. 

It would be better to call things with Shallan off now. Storms, hadn’t they already agreed to that this morning? Or last night? It was so hard to keep track of things, these past few days. He stole a glance at her, slouched petulantly in the corner, clearly not taking the notes she’d been instructed to take. She seemed smaller just then, younger maybe. It was as if being around Jasnah made her play the part of a mousy ward, just as he was glowering cross-armed in the corner, always the stoic soldier. And Kaladin happened to know exactly what he looked like just then, because as Shallan’s pencil flew absentmindedly over the page, she created the form of...well, him. 

Following his eyes, Syl zipped over to Shallan’s sketchpad, making exaggerated gestures of approval as a creationspren burst into being nearby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, so this one got a little crunchy because I'm trying to stick as close by the actual sequence of events in the book (which may not be the wisest). Thanks for sticking with it!


	3. A Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was something about Shallan’s behavior that bothered Jasnah.

POV: Jasnah

Jasnah knew in advance that there wouldn’t be adequate notes for the meeting. Thankfully, Ivory found human discussions fascinating, especially arguments, so he could be counted on to help Jasnah recollect what was missing, both today and in the future. It was going to be tiresome setting up scenarios where Shallan would fail, then act disappointed at the shortcomings, but it also seemed to be working. Though the girl had the gall to actually draw _ the bridgeman _ instead of recording minutes, she was sufficiently chastened by the time the meeting reconvened, not looking at or speaking to him for the rest of the meeting. The young man seemed a little disappointed by that.

There was something about Shallan’s behavior that bothered Jasnah, though. It was hard to place at first, as she had seldom experienced or witnessed it, but then she finally landed on it: Shallan had a crush on her. 

“Jasnah, this sounds dangerous,” Ivory warned when Jasnah gave the sensation a name back in her rooms. “Shallan is breaking you physically? Yet she is not strong enough for it to be!”

Jasnah smiled as she eased off her shoes, enjoying the cool stone floor through her stockings. “You see how many humans desire close companionship?”

“Yes, of course. Just as we.”

“No - well, yes,” Jasnah conceded, “In a way, yes. But very often humans encounter emotions before these companionships begin. They don’t always match with one another, and one person may desire companionship that the other does not. The feeling can be very strong, or start small and then fade, or many other permutations thereof. Shallan is having this small emotion for me, just as she and the bridgeman are having a large emotion for one another.”

Jasnah checked the lights on all the spanreeds on her desk as Ivory took a size large enough to sit in Jasnah’s chair and rest his elbows on her desk, hands cradling his chin. Jasnah found she tended to lecture more and more, as Ivory truly enjoyed it. There was no more attentive student on all of Roshar. 

“Physical contact can often enhance these feelings,” Jasnah continued, angling the mirror on the wardrobe toward her and pinning back some stray hairs, “even if a human understands it is not desirable or practical to pursue companionship with the other person. I worry that our kiss earlier this morning may have elicited...a response in Shallan, which I was not anticipating. 

“Of course she knows just as we do that I do not carry this feeling for her, but as my ward has shown in her recent past, this will not likely stop her from indulging in these emotions. On the one hand, she will want to please me, which could produce favorable outcomes in terms of our work. But on the other hand, I now hold an inappropriate level of power over my ward, which presents a risk.”

“What is the risk?” asked Ivory. “Will you crush Shallan?”

“I hope not,” Jasnah sighed, reapplying some color to her lips and dusting her nose and brow lightly with powder. “Come on, let’s go see if my mother’s ardents have cracked the Dawnchant yet.”

Ivory reduced himself in size and accepted a lift from Jasnah’s desk to her shoulder. Sliding her shoes back on, Jasnah checked her spanreeds one last time before locking the door behind her.


	4. Storming Poetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was something powerfully alluring about a person who could consume you, ingest you like that.

POV: Veil

Veil caught herself daydreaming about the bridgeman as she played Questions, Peeks and Inferences with the boys. She had an unfair advantage in the game, Shallan’s memory being what it was, and as the men yammered on, Veil’s mind kept returning to the moment she had manifested midair in Kaladin’s arms, rescuing Shallan once again from her own uncertainties. What a hunger she felt for the brooding spearman, even as she dissipated along with the stormlight he pulled from Shallan’s body. The sensation had stunned Veil, scared her a little, but the element of danger only made her want to do it again. There was something powerfully alluring about a person who could consume you, _ ingest _ you like that. She could literally lose herself in a kiss, how storming poetic. 

Of course it was still an unfortunate distraction. Shallan had been successful so far in keeping her involvement with the Ghostbloods a secret, but it would only get more complicated as her relationships developed. Veil could see that the link between Shallan and Kaladin wasn’t about to be broken, but how would he respond to her being in league with the Ghostbloods? Adolin would never suspect it - he was too ready to accept whatever version of herself Shallan put forward - but Kaladin, Kaladin might. And he would certainly have opinions about it. As much as Veil wanted more chances to steal away with the brooding darkeyed Windrunner, maybe find out how things looked under that uniform, it would only cause more trouble. What a bother. Veil flipped her tiles and took her winnings, letting the disappointed groans of Vathah and Gaz take her mind off the problem, for now.


	5. Your Illusion is Very Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolin sounded...sad. That was unusual. Storms, did he know?

Shallan caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she finished buttoning her safehand sleeve, out of Veil’s costume for the day. What would it look like if she did an illusion the old-fashioned way, with paint and powder? She burned a little Stormlight, trying different colors on her lips and eyes.

“Shallan, are you redecorating your face?” Pattern wanted to know.

“Do you see how Jasnah does her makeup? I’m trying to see if I can get it like that,” Shallan explained, attempting to make one part of her eyelid darker than another, the way she remembered seeing on the older woman. 

Of course, she had never drawn or imagined herself this way, so it came out looking less “refined brightlady” and more “axehound breaking into a paintbox.” Shallan cycled through several shades of lipcolor, none of which suited her freckly pale face the way they did Jasnah’s evenly tan complexion. As she did so, she realized she was thinking about Jasnah’s lips in a much different way. Storms. The kiss had been research, just research. Shallan _ knew _ that. There was only one way to learn about the weird fact of Stormlight she and Kaladin had discovered, and they did that, and that was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it? But then...she’d missed 15 minutes of the meeting that morning just...daydreaming about Jasnah. Her face, her curves, her hands... _ storms _ . She’d been busted by Jasnah herself _ that morning _for not paying attention in the aftermath of that brief kiss. 

Storms, it was enough just figuring out what to do about Kaladin. This too? 

Someone knocked on Shallan’s doorway. 

“Shallan? It’s me, can I come in?”

Shallan’s heart froze. Adolin sounded...sad. That was unusual. Storms, did he know? Pattern hummed from a spot on the wall. 

“Of course!” Shallan shouted, too loudly for the size of the room. She wished she had been in a state of undress, or still disguised as Veil, something that would allow her to stall for a moment, but all she had to do was drop the bad paint job off her face. Hastily, she grabbed a sheaf of papers, feigning concentration. He was supposed to be in Vedenar! How were they already back? 

“Um, come in!”

Adolin ducked through the doorway, though he was tall enough to enter without stooping. At the sight of Shallan he visibly relaxed, then hesitated. He took a seat the wrong way on a chair, gazing dreamily at her.

"You look busy.”

“Oh, oh no, not really,” Shallan shoved the pages back onto her desk, practically pushing them onto the floor. The thought of meeting that gaze nauseated her. Storms, she was drawing shamespren! She pulled in Stormlight to steady herself and summoned Radiant, who would absolutely know what to do. Curiously, Radiant...resisted? But she _ was _ Radiant. Or, Radiant was _ her _ . Shallan tried again, forming the Lightweaving around herself, but the confidence she was groping for, the _ propriety _of Radiant, was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, Shallan cursed under her breath, then gave up on the transformation, attempting a casual lean against the wall of the room, but it felt ridiculous and wrong. She looked guiltily at Adolin, whose gaze had gone from dreamy to puzzled.

“Shallan, are you all right?”

“Shallan, your illusion is very bad,” Pattern quietly buzzed from behind her collar, “Are you having a problem?”

“Yes - _ I mean no! _ \- I mean, yes, I’m all right, Adolin. Why do you ask?”

Adolin cocked his head. He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. “I guess you know I’m going on this mission to Kholinar,” he proceeded, scrutinizing her with those gorgeous eyes. Oblivious as he could be, Shallan was acting odd enough for even Adolin to notice. Storms, that was bad. 

“I mean, of course you know, you were there when they decided. I just...I just wanted to talk to you about it. I might be gone a long time, and it’ll be dangerous, so I, um--”

“Adolin?” It was the most difficult word she’d ever uttered. It felt like a knife had neatly carved away a piece of her heart and tossed it to the wind. Adolin stopped, full on his guard.

Shallan met that perfect blue gaze. “I need to tell you something.”

Adolin simply waited. No “go on,” no “what is it,” no “please continue.” He just sat patiently, attentively, as if she were reading him a book. 

_ We have to tell him, _ urged Radiant from wherever she was hiding. _ Just say it, you owe him that. _

So Shallan told him. 


	6. That Makes Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shallan tells Adolin.

POVs: Adolin, Shallan

“I kissed Kaladin.”

What an understatement! Why did she say it like that?!

The look on Adolin’s face felt like two great hands, ripping her apart at the shoulders. In all the short time they had known one another, Shallan had never seen Adolin this way. It was almost as if his face didn’t know what _ do _just then, expression shifting between hurt and confusion. Shallan cursed herself for being the one to make him feel this way, cursed every choice that had brought them to this moment.

“You what?”

“I-”

“Shallan, you what?”

She couldn’t answer. 

"Why?”

_ What a good question, _ observed Radiant. Was she taking Adolin’s side?? But she was Radiant! Radiant was her! Could she _ do _that to herself?

“Well technically he kissed me,” sputtered Shallan, “But then I kissed back, so…” 

“Damnation, Shallan! Why?”

Adolin grew suddenly still, his voice level and low. While Shallan knew with certainty that he would never lay a hand on her, there was something about the way he stood that unnerved her. The lean muscle, the duelist’s poise, all the things she usually swooned over took on a different cast as he carefully restrained whatever impulse passed through his mind. For the first time, Shallan saw the killer in Adolin Kholin. 

“I-“

Abruptly, Adolin strode over to a wall of her room, leaning on it in a casual manner. When he looked back at Shallan, it was a friendly mask, the kind of pleasant non-smile that a young Alethi brightlord would have perfected years since. Somehow, this was even more unnerving. 

“Really, I want to know. There seems to be a lot I’m not aware of. Can you explain it to me?”

******

When Shallan confessed her infidelity, the first thing Adolin thought was “that makes sense,” because it did. Shallan was a Radiant. Bridgeboy was too. It was the exact thing he’d tried to bring up with her before! This was a new world, she was a hero of myth and legend, was she sure she wanted to move forward with the betrothal? She could’ve taken the opportunity to break it off, let them end it on friendly, honest terms. He had prepared himself for that possibility. But instead, to his great relief, she’d met his fears with assurances, affection. It made Adolin feel safe from a hurt that he was very afraid to feel.

That was all before bridgeboy came home, though. Brooding, righteous, Radiant, gorgeous storming bridgeboy. Who could compete with that? 

Given how obvious it all was, demanding an explanation from Shallan felt kind of cruel, like exposing your breastplate in a feint to goad the enemy into close range. He hoped - expected - that making Shallan say it out loud would be a dagger in her own side. 

Storms, this was horrible.

“I...I didn’t know it was going to…”

Shamespren exploded around Shallan, drifting to the ground in a flurry of petals. 

“I didn’t realize I missed him until he was back! I wanted to meet, but I didn’t want people whispering about it, didn’t want to have to explain to anyone. It wasn’t exactly meant to turn out like it did, but it probably _ was_, but I didn’t know how _ he _ felt before we - before that time. And then it turned out to be a lot, a lot more than we realized, but there wasn’t a chance to _ stop _before - before...Adolin, what are you doing?”

Adolin realized he was reaching for his Shardblade, his racing heart already at 5 beats. He cancelled the summon with a wrenching sensation that felt like falling down a chasm.

Horrified, he left the room in silence. 


	7. The Charming Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolin discovers a new location on Urithiru.

POV: Adolin

Adolin hoped he would escape Sebarial’s quarter without passing the highprince himself or his mistress, but unfortunately Palona was reclining in their comically large sitting area, so covered in throws and so lazily still that Adolin didn’t see her until too late. 

“That was a short visit,” the petite woman observed, not bothering to look up from her folio. “I hope you didn’t make her too angry, apparently she’s learning how to use a sword.”

A surge of nausea overwhelmed Adolin. The room threatened to spin, the strata of the walls blurring before his eyes. _ Get it together, _ he coached himself, _ you’re almost free, just focus on the exit. Play dumb. Play the charming idiot. _ He fixed a baffled look on Palona, then let a wide-eyed look of realization spread across his face. 

“Oh! That’s _me_! _I’m _the one teaching her! Oh, that’s a good one!” Adolin laughed. He laughed with the closest approximation of good humor and joy he could muster, but it was clear from Palona’s reaction that he looked like a madman. Striding out of the room at top speed, Adolin threw in one last, hopefully less crazy-sounding chuckle that would echo in the hall as he raced away, not in any particular direction. Just away.

He’d almost drawn his _ Shardblade _ at Shallan! What in Damnation? But Adolin was sure he didn’t want to hurt her, and of course he didn’t feel threatened by Shallan, either. Or did he? She _ had _ brought one of his fears to life, wasn’t that the definition of scary? Storms, _ was _ he afraid of her? He figured she might be afraid of him now.

It had been a panicked response, like a child grasping at a doll or a parent’s sleeve. Adolin couldn’t recall ever feeling the awful sensation that came when he’d stopped summoning his Blade just then, but he also couldn’t remember ever wanting to have it in his hands and then suddenly...not wanting it. Not only that, _ needing _ it not to come. Adolin suddenly recalled the fright in Shallan’s eyes as she noticed his outstretched hand. The floor heaved beneath his feet, and he broke into a run.

Adolin continued charging ahead, ducking down whichever hallway seemed less likely to contain people. That performance in front of Palona had been excruciating, and Adolin genuinely doubted he could pull it off again. The only person he could think of to talk to about this was Renarin. Who would be with Bridge 4. Storming. Fucking. Bridgeboy. 

Before long, Adolin caught the tickle of fresh air coming from someplace ahead, cooling the sweat that had broken out across his brow. Sprinting now, he eventually found himself washed in bright afternoon sun on a balcony strewn with dun spheres. Sinking to his knees, Adolin stretched out his hand until, ten heartbeats later, the weight of his Blade filled his palm. Then, calmly, he rose with Blade in hand, walked to the ledge, and vomited off the side.


	8. Fight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of her talk with Adolin, Shallan receives a visit.

POV: Shallan

Shallan was positive Adolin wouldn’t hurt her, knew it in her very soul, but she was still scared to follow him out of her room. 

_ Go after him,  _ Radiant urged.  _ That was barely a conversation, you barely made any sense! Tell him you’re sorry!  _ Don’t _ let him leave! _

She heard Adolin’s laugh echoing down the hall. It was not...a happy laugh. Storms, he had scared her, and not because he had summoned his Blade. It was the way he seemed to have become different people, none of them recognizable, all of them competing for control of his actions. 

Shallan had to pause for a moment to consider the irony of this. 

“Shallan,” Pattern buzzed from the wall beside her, “was this different from your plans?”

Plans. That was funny. 

There had been no plan to tell Adolin, none whatsoever. After the meeting, she had sent the map of the balcony back to Kaladin’s quarters, tucked inside a map of Kholinar. Tonight, she figured, they could see each other and work it out together. But also... maybe they could do some other stuff, too. That was her whole plan, which is to say there was no plan. 

“I didn’t have a plan, Pattern,” Shallan moaned. “I was just kind of hoping it would all be fine, even though there was absolutely no chance.”

“It was a very good lie,” Pattern praised her. 

She hadn’t considered that Adolin would have returned from Jah Keved so soon, or that daydreaming about  _ Jasnah  _ of all people would have had her so off-guard when he came to visit, but the truth was, she was terrified to consider what might happen when he found out. And she was deeply ashamed of having gone behind his back, though it had seemed very worth it at the time. Storms, it  _ was  _ worth it! Wasn’t it?

“And  _ you _ ,” Shallan growled at Radiant. Herself? Storms, this was not a good sign. “Where were you? I  _ need  _ you around Adolin! That’s...that’s where you came from!”

_ You shouldn’t have let him leave,  _ Radiant insisted. Was that...anger? Storms, how did someone so judgmental live in her own head?

There was a knock at the door. 

He was back!

“Oh storms, I’m so sorry,” Shallan scrambled to her feet, scrubbing the tears off her face with her safehand, “Adolin, I —“

Palona was standing on the other side of the curtain, holding two glasses and a bottle of violet. 

“Fight?” the older woman asked, clearly believing she knew the answer. Which, in a way, she did.

Shallan hesitated in the doorway. Palona could  _ not  _ be trusted with this. Storms, her whole  _ day  _ was learning everyone’s business, everywhere, and turning it to her and Sebarial’s advantage whenever she could. Shallan respected Palona, liked her too, but the woman couldn’t be allowed to walk away with an inkling of what was really going on. 

“Shallan, I saw Adolin on his way out,” Palona said. “Poor boy was a storming mess, and frankly you are too.” She held out the glasses. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Shallan nodded numbly, making way for Palona to enter. Time to lie her storming face off.

The two women sat on Shallan’s floor, which Palona initiated for some reason. Shallan toasted with her, and they drank. 

“So what did he do?” The other woman asked. “Or what did  _ you  _ do?”

Shallan tried to hide her surprise. Palona wasn’t wasting any time. Think, think: what stupid thing would two betrothed lighteyes fight about?

“I...saw Janala talking with him yesterday,” Shallan responded, with all the bitterness she could muster. “And I got jealous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dropping this in after the fact! I had it in the next part but chronologically it makes more sense here.


	9. It's Him or Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolin's Blade doubles as a bat.

“It’s him or me.”

Adolin could still see in his mind the ruddy face of Torol Sadeas, moments before the knife slid through his eye socket and ended his life. Famously cutthroat and merciless, the highprince had spent years working to discredit - storms - _ eliminate _ his father. _ It’s him or me. _ No room for alliances, no chance for unity, no place for trust. The old man had expressed it easy as breathing, as if it were part of the natural order. So Adolin had made the choice Dalinar couldn’t: he eliminated Sadeas. And nobody could ever know.

“I guess we both have a secret,” Adolin said to his blade, which rested lengthwise across the stone ledge running waist-high around the balcony. There was something peaceful, almost sacred, about the remote spot, something mysterious and frivolous about the wealth of gemstones scattered across the ground, unclaimed. The sounds and smells of the markets and the barracks were absent here. There was no scurry of ardents, no family to scrutinize him or ask what was wrong, no storming Bridge Four detail, no bridgeboy. And no Shallan. The thought of her twisted in his gut.

“She kissed him!” he cried at the sword, “When did she do that? WHY did she do that? And...why did she TELL me??” 

If he could keep quiet about his own crimes, why in Damnation couldn’t she? Adolin wished he didn’t know about any of it. He wouldn’t have to care if he didn’t know. He would be a fool, sure, but anything seemed better than this feeling of betrayal, of helplessness. He loved Shallan. He wanted to marry her. He also wanted to break something, to fight someone, but what was he going to do? He could never hurt her. He never wanted to see her hurt, even if she _ could _heal herself. 

“Because she’s magic. She’s magic! THEY’RE magic.” Adolin picked up his blade and started tossing spheres in the air, smacking them out into nothingness. It felt good to swing the blade, to _ connect _with something solid. Adolin looked over the balcony once or twice to make sure no one was directly below, and all seemed clear. Nobody would get hit, but some lucky person would find the spheres eventually, maybe drawn by the scattered lights after a highstorm. 

“The whole storming REASON I went to see her was that I was going to MISS her on this stupid mission to Kholinar! I could storming DIE over there! And instead it’s ‘I kissed Kaladin’?” Adolin demanded of the Blade as it whooshed in the air. 

“I don’t CARE about him. I care about US. I thought SHE cared about us. She storming said she did.” Adolin fell silent as the repetitive motion calmed his nerves and stilled his mind. A few times he tried to slice a sphere midair, with mixed success. Glass and gemstones clattered dully to the stone floor, then he picked them up and swung at them again.

Adolin wanted to fight someone. He wouldn’t fight Shallan, but there was another option. After he had cleared the floor of all its riches, he went to find a messenger.


	10. Stonestance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That wasn’t him. It wasn’t. He wouldn’t let it be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which a person who does not understand combat whatsoever tries to write combat. I tried to keep it simple. I'm sorry.

POVs: Adolin, Kaladin

Adolin took Stonestance. 

It wasn’t comfortable to him, lacking the fluid motion of Windstance, obliging him to remain grounded and immobile. But now, he wanted his feet planted. He wanted powerful cuts and grinding parries. He wanted his opponent to feel like an intruder on his territory, because he was. 

Storms, he hated this. 

The bridgeman hung back warily, Shardspear tucked lightly under one arm. His eyes, usually dark as chasms, shone bright blue, complementing the Bridge Four uniform which fell easily across his frame, as if honored to be his clothes. Though Kaladin tied back his hair to spar, several locks had already come loose to fall along his temples. Storming man was perfect. Of course Shallan wanted him. Adolin practically did. He...he found he actually kind of did? Fascinating. Adolin shrugged off the sensation. It wouldn’t help now.

He was relieved that Kaladin had agreed to meet on the practice grounds; it wouldn’t look unusual for the two of them to spar, and this way they could avoid the torture of standing around in a room somewhere just talking about it.

_ “So, bridgeboy, I hear you met with my betrothed in secret and you made out a bunch.” _

_ “That’s right.” _

_ “How interesting. Please allow me to stab you through the eye, I have had practice.” _

That wouldn’t be good. 

“Are you two planning to dance around each other all day?” Zahel called from somewhere. “This is the practice ground, we spar here. Two trees can’t - ah, never mind. Get moving!”

Kaladin had clearly been expecting Adolin to take Windstance, and was keeping his own stance close in anticipation of a sweeping attack. Once he realized those blows weren’t coming, he dashed forward, launching himself into a leap that went too high and traveled too far to be anything but a Lashing. Even with the help of Shardplate, Adolin had never seen a human move like that. It was breathtaking.

Adolin felt the full contact of his feet on the sand, level and steady. So Stormblessed had the skies. He would try to have the earth. 

******

Kaladin kept his eyes trained on Adolin, who held his blade overhead as he soared past. Syl had begrudgingly agreed to wear a protective covering on her speartip, even though she thought it looked stupid. They had decided it would be an unfair advantage for her to change forms in this fight - no shields, no swords, just the spear. 

The prince was favoring Stonestance, one he almost never used. Kaladin recognized its strong pose immediately, recalling how it worked - powerful blows on offense and a defense that relied on keeping oneself grounded, blocking strikes with the sword. A heavy, strong stance. Kaladin would have the speed to dodge those blows, but in order to get a hit he would have to get in close and strike inside the Blade’s reach, otherwise he’d be beaten away. 

Kaladin landed behind Adolin and the reach of his blade, hoping it would take the prince a moment to reorient and give him an opening. But Adolin had already knelt in a crouch, and now burst towards Kaladin in a leap, Blade plummeting towards him in a vicious downward strike. Even without the assistance of Plate he managed to jump an impressive distance, and Kaladin had to fling himself out of the way. 

Adolin was the best duelist in Alethkar, with a mesmerizing confidence and grace. Today, though, he reminded Kaladin of Dalinar. Solid. Direct. Immutable. Adolin seemed to smolder, coiled tight like a whitespine before the kill. Absent was the easy air of privilege, the perpetual good humor. It was unnerving. 

Kaladin had never truly been the target before, not in this way. His mission was to protect, protect at all costs. He’d sworn it to the Stormfather himself, had made it his only purpose in life. _ Protect those who cannot protect themselves, protect even those I hate _ . Every minute he spent in combat had been as the soldier or the bodyguard, never the true opponent. Until now. Adolin needed to meet _ him _ here, had all but challenged him to the dreaded duel. Kaladin was defending only himself, and he barely even wanted to. 

He regained his footing just in time to parry another blow, the shaft of the Sylspear vibrating at the impact.

Adolin drove down with his Shardblade, meeting Kaladin’s eyes with a chilly determination he had never seen. 

Through gritted teeth he said, “I love her, did you know that?”

******

A look of sadness flashed across Kaladin’s face. Adolin had never before been in a duel where both people were so unhappy to be fighting one another. Involuntarily, he recalled how the two of them had fought side by side in the dueling arena, which then forced him to remember how he’d incarcerated himself in solidarity with the man who was now apparently Shallan’s lover. A fresh wave of betrayal washed over Adolin at the thought. 

The ground pushed against Adolin’s planted feet, carrying power through his legs, abdomen, shoulders, arms and Blade as it bore down on Kaladin. It was nothing magical, no surge of power, just a connectedness and weight that reassured him, gave him strength, reminded him that he existed. He would grind Kaladin to dust if he could.

“She loves you too,” grunted Kaladin he was slowly pushed into the ground. Adolin was sure he could have disengaged, leapt or Lashed back, but he didn’t. “She doesn’t want - we don’t want -” 

“NO,” bellowed Adolin, landing a knee in Kaladin’s gut, forcing him to kneel, “There is no WE, bridgeboy!” he grunted, “There is none.” 

Adolin toppled them both, feet sliding out from under him as he pressed hard against Kaladin’s spear to regain his footing. For a second, he was back under Urithiru in a frantic scrabble with Sadeas. Furious, vicious. A murderer. 

_ It’s him or me. _

No, no no no. It shouldn’t _ be _like that!

“NO!” Adolin shouted again. Dismissing his Blade, Adolin pushed against the haft of the spear, flinging himself away. Kaladin swung out, hitting him on the temple with the butt of the weapon as he sprung back to his feet. Adolin wavered, acting more dazed than he felt. He remained on his knees, one hand lightly touching the place the spear had struck. Part of him wanted to lunge at the bridgeman, crush his Windrunning windpipe right there (which of course he could storming _heal_) but a larger part of him was disgusted by that thought. That wasn’t him. It _wasn’t_. He wouldn’t let it be.

******

_ Get up, _ thought Kaladin as loudly as he could. _ Get up. _ Adolin had obviously thought that meeting on the practice grounds would make for an unremarkable encounter, but the fact was that eyes would be on them wherever they met. They would have to make a good show of it now, or everyone would notice something was amiss, such as the most easygoing and good-natured lighteyes in history suddenly possessed by a terrifying rage, for example. Adolin made no sign of rising. _ Get up. _

“Come on, your highness,” Kaladin tried in the most gamesman-like voice he could muster, “no need to go easy on me.” With a gesture that he hoped looked more confident and friendly than he felt, Kaladin stepped forward with a hand outstretched. Adolin’s eyes darted up at him, and Kaladin felt...danger. Before he could articulate the feeling, the other man’s face configured itself into a smile, gaze turning to the ground.

“You really got me, bridgeboy!” Adolin lied, accepting the hand up. Kaladin had given him nothing more than a light tap, and they both knew it, but apparently that was enough to signal the end of the spar. Still grasping Kaladin’s hand, Adolin clapped him on the shoulder, giving every impression of a friendly bout amicably ended. Storms, when had every minute of his life become a pantomime? 

“I’d like to talk with you,” Adolin murmured, using the gesture as an opportunity to lower his voice. He really was an expert at this game. “Someplace less...public.”

Adolin released his grasp and pulled back, whacking the dust off his uniform and tugging at his coat. “Can you take a walk?”

There was something about the way Adolin was _ not _meeting his eyes, the nonchalance laid on so thick he could almost taste it, that set off alarm bells in Kaladin’s mind. Syl swooped around Adolin as a windspren, coaxing the dust into little swirls around his shoulders and knees. 

“I don’t think I like this, Kaladin,” Syl mused, “but you could take him if you had to, anyway.”

Kaladin glanced around the practice grounds. They _ had _ turned some heads earlier, but now everyone seemed to be back to their business. Zahel looked like he had fallen asleep in his chair, a book propped open on his face.

“Sure,” Kaladin replied warily, “I can take a walk.”

Together, they walked off the grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's part 4! I can't even TALK about how much I miss writing romantic interludes for our lovesick Radiants, but the story has a lot of things to do before I can get back there. Thanks for sticking with it, more coming much sooner than this did!


	11. Hey Reader!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've Moved!

Heya! If you have enjoyed this work in any of its sections, you can now read the whole thing in one place: [Here's a link to that place.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041639/)

There’s some minor tweaks from the originally published chapters, but you’ve basically got the gist if you’ve read everything. Thanks for reading, commenting, and kudoing, and generally being a delightful fandom to be a part of!

<3

s_i_r


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